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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827979">Birdsong</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/pseuds/Etnoe'>Etnoe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Ideas, Billy Hargrove Lives, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, Photographs, Step-Sibling Incest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:48:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827979</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/pseuds/Etnoe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>How to turn a good day into a better one (and maybe worse), with some outdoors nudity and an instant camera.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Maxine "Max" Mayfield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Birdsong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I listened to <a href="https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=3GzpcN3vy_Q">You're Gorgeous by Babybird</a> a lot and then was like OK, you know what...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>There are a lot of things <em>a good day</em> can mean.</p><p>Right now it means sunshine after a week of rain. Billy's hand on Max's knee.</p><p>Little flowers in sheets of colour in the grass along the roadside and in unkempt fields. The way everything Max says comes out with laughter and Billy answers her, snapping back at teasing and curling a smile of his own around jokes.</p><p>Slushy mud only in shade, under trees and the lee side of hills, and the rest of the world washed clean and bright. How Billy doesn't back up, away from her, where she leans on the hood of his car.</p><p>Springtime. While they've both had warnings from the Byers family that summer might get to him real bad, an anniversary effect that Will was hushed about and his mom kept Billy on the phone with for a long time--Max doesn't care. How could that apply? That's not <em>it's a good day!</em> material. Besides, heat usually has Billy feeling surer of being himself, free of any passenger. Summer might go great. As great as spring, and driving out to a concert in Indianapolis, and leaving early so there would be time out in the sun, time for... </p><p>"Hey, put the soda down." Billy emphasises this by tugging a curl of Max's hair.</p><p>It's a light tug. It has the ridiculous effect of making her skin prickle all over. She grins like a bozo until suspicion saves her, bringing her mind back. "I will totally have a beer with you once we've arrived! But not when we're driving."</p><p>"Oh, uh-huh, because I am definitely letting you drive this piece of hammered shit and making it into even bigger clunker, yeah." His new car looks cool and all but has not had the loving care given to the old one, by the previous owner or by Billy, who's too inconsistent about caring.</p><p>But not now! He's not doing his internal-hideaway routine, he's openly staring. Like he wants her flat on her back, basically. Except he gets that across by looking her in the eyes, not even a sweep up and down her body. It's so sweet. It's totally not sweet - Max is on one level rolling her eyes and thinking about typical guy tricks, but she's also aware that Billy's here in his head and with her and couldn't be happier about it. She wants to ... at the very least she wants to dance with him, once the sun is down and no one in the concert crowd will know who they are.</p><p>She slips off the hood of the car and their legs slide together, skin against jeans. Heat rolls over her - and gets dizzily worse when Billy grabs her the second her shoes hit the ground, big hands and a firm arm on thighs and waist hauling her back on top of the hood.</p><p>"Oh my God, <em>what?</em>" she says, because she's not a staying-put type, even if she is staying put. The better question is, <em>Why do I want to squirm so bad and what am I going to do about it</em>, but she knows the answer.</p><p>"You look good like that. Like, classic. You ever see wartime pin-ups?" Billy murmurs, close enough to almost be speaking into her ear. This is almost definitely a guy trick - it has that feeling of intent - even if none of the guys who have flirted with her have had the guts to try a move like cornering her. Max has a reputation at school.</p><p>"Girls and cars. An American favourite. Fiery redheads were popular too. Got the soldier boys revving."</p><p>Max rolls her eyes and waggles the bottle in her hand. "You're saying I could really sell this soda?"</p><p>Billy laughs. "Sex sells, right?" It's such a jolt to hear him say the word. "But, uh," and his tongue rolls out over his lips, "what I'm saying is ... we have that camera."</p><p>Good days mean bad ideas.</p><p>The eye of the camera is a connection as tangible as the one of a minute ago when they touched and shared inches of space. It means reality - no hiding in adrenaline or desperation or getting messed up on painkillers. It means forever in a rectangle of colour seeping into the glossy paper that slides out of the camera. Max doesn't hesitate to pull off her boots and perch her feet on the hood of the car, socked and then bare.</p><p>Billy bounds closer to pull her knees apart, then further apart, so she has an excuse to give in to the urge to squirm as her skirt bunches up. She laughingly refuses to pull her shirt down until he does the same. Billy twirls it over his head with a demented cowboy <em>yeehaw</em> before tossing it, and Max almost cries with laughter as she shrugs halfway out of her jacket, unclasps her bra and puts it behind her, and pulls her shirt's neckline down to her nipples. It's probably not even attractive or hot or whatever. But God, God, oh God, the air is chilly for a moment and the sun sharply warmer than before, and her ears strain to hear over her laughter for any sign of witnesses beyond the sounds of birds.</p><p>When Billy comes closer she wants to grab hold of him badly. It would ... or, she <em>wants</em> it to end up a lot more than kissing. Like that one time his hand bulged huge inside her panties and she crossed her legs to keep it there, mind running a mile a minute but the way her pussy ached winning out over it all. But Billy walks past her to the back of the car, even as he does his obscene licking thing again, and emerges with another bottle of soda from the cooler box.</p><p>The bottle presses with an icy bite against Max's chest. She yelps. The shiver spikes through her whole body like warmth has all day and she surprises herself by not pushing Billy away. Does she want it? Does it hurt too much, or at all? Sensation means a lot of things at once. Max retaliates by pawing at Billy's scarred chest - he doesn't like showing it, but he's done it for her, now. She rubs a palm over his nipple as he rolls the bottle over hers to make her skin tight and fever-cold. </p><p>"There, now you look like a slut. Who's gonna win a war," Billy rumbles, and presses a kiss to her hairline, licks into her ear.</p><p>That makes her yell in a totally different way - jeez, at least it isn't a wet willie, but ugh - and he laughs as he darts back. The camera flashes closer by this time, before she has time to pose. Startled, Max finally notices the way the crotch of Billy's jeans are bulging.</p><p>When they pick up the camera and the photos from the ground later it's easy to see which are the last ones: Parted lips above a sharp chin, slack and with a tongue-tip darting out in one. Strands of red hair curling down a neck and over more skin than should be showing. The swell of breasts with pebbled brown-pink nipples, pushed closer by a rucked black shirt.</p><p>Max is going to let him keep the photos. She's absolutely not going to let him. Tonight they're going to dance together so close. She's going to mockingly, viciously repeat the phrase "respect and responsibility" so he'll forget all about the money spent on concert tickets and slam the brakes to park somewhere quiet while she climbs into the back seat.</p><p>How do you even know what good means if you don't take a chance with bad sometimes?</p>
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